On my way from Zagreb to Motovun, I am passing through Gorski Kotar. The hilly region covered with forests never ceases to amaze me by the absence of human intervention. There are few villages anywhere in sight, let alone towns or cities. Bears and even wolves thrive in it. The only exception to the eternal bliss is the highway along which my bus is hurtling southwestward. And so I try to imagine it about a century from now. The vision that emerges is sharp and clear. Asphalt will be visible no longer. It will be a meadow with clusters of low trees here and there. The edges between the meadow and the forest will be smooth. The only surprise will be an occasional traffic sign overgrown with creepers and an abrupt break where a segment of the highway has collapsed over the years. From time to time, a few deer will dart across the meadow, but there will be plenty of birds looking for insects in the thick grass. Birds of prey will be sailing down the infinite meadow in search of the next meal. Punctuated by occasional calls of animals and birds, silence will reign supreme. At that merry thought, a big smile sprouts on my face.